


Shoot the Moon

by prodigalsanyo



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Caning, Date Night, Established Brimel, Established Relationship, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Object Penetration, Pool & Billiards, Pool Table Sex, Spanking, Vaginal Sex, Whipping, no beta we die like men, sugar bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28182846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalsanyo/pseuds/prodigalsanyo
Summary: Tally Tarmel doesn't know much about her husband's boyfriend.  What was supposed to be a romantic date night devolves into the filthiest game of billiards she's ever won.  Malcolm gets did on a pool table.  All three of them sorta win.
Relationships: JT Tarmel/Tally Tarmel, Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Shoot the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> KateSamantha: Malcolm needs to get did over a pool table at some point
> 
> Me: *heart sinking* I'm sure... someone wrote this fic. JT, Malcolm, balls.

By the time Major Crimes squad apprehends the sadist responsible or assaulting Hispanic street artists, Tally tells JT her husband that she wants and deserves a night out that will ruin her.

“Hon, I haven’t been having any fun. Last time, you and Malcolm had to leave after shooting pool for forty minutes. Well, you were playing. I don’t know what your boyfriend was trying to do.”

JT’s fingers curl beneath his nose, a short laugh breaking his face. “He was shooting for the moon, honey.”

“He isn’t the only one missing it. The Friday before that, you came home late and we had to play until closing to win back the flat rate for our table! We almost didn’t break even,” says Tally. She shakes her head. “We pay for the table with other people’s money. It’s tradition!”

JT kisses Tally’s cheek. “You are the best wife. How about we step out from our usual haunt? Mix it up a little, what do you say?”

“Yay! If it’s a bad date, we can always crawl back to Amsterdam for regrettable decisions,” says Tally.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” replies JT, nonplussed. Though he’s very blasé in tone, Tally catches the way he strokes his chin.

Tally focuses on getting more work done than usual in the beginning of her week. She wants to keep an open mind for whatever JT plans. Tally hopes that JT will splurge for a dinner reservation, a musical, and an early bedtime for sex that is savory, sticky, and giving like caramel.

What Tally forgets to factor into date night plans is one Malcolm Bright.

Tally is already sleeping when her husband JT comes home from work super late on Thursday night or (depending on how you look at it) in the unholy hours of Friday morning—the same Friday as their big date. She ignores the sinking feeling of homesickness in her stomach when she wakes up to the smell of coffee and the sliced bagel that JT put in the toaster for her before he left to pick right back up at his job.

Tally texts him during her lunch break at work and just swallows the ache in her throat because he can’t call her, not today. Though he responds to her within minutes, his replies are quick blips, in lengthy moments further strained by the anticipation of seeing him.

She cleans up inbox and clears her desk before cutting out of work early. She dunks her granny panties and shape wear in the hamper. Lo-fi beats, white wine and fruity seltzer, and an hour soaking up a bath bomb to exfoliate and shave and deep condition. Clear polish on her fingers and candy apple red for her toes. Tally pulls on her default black dress over her lacy silk slip. Darkly lacquered platform wedges with broad white snakeskin straps. No lipstick. False lashes from a Korean cosmetic store. Volumizing mascara. Chanel parfum behind her ears, on her wrists, skimming the waistline of her lingerie, the back of her knees, and her ankles.

Tally is incredibly pleased with herself. Then she checks the phone on her charger. 

_Bright needs me for a bit. He’s been visiting his dad without saying. Can I meet you at home an hour later, tops?_

“Oh no, you may not!” exclaims Tally. Her platforms clump on her hardwood floor while she paces impatiently.

_Where r u?_

_We at his gym. Gonna box a little._

_Drop me a pin. I’ll head out right meow and meet you after._

Darn it, autocorrect. She meant right now.

Tally hops into a ride share which drops her off in Soho. The gym has a fresh press juice bar with ginger, acai, and wheatgrass options. When she texts her arrival to JT, she’s a little less mad because some brothers and one butch lady are checking her out while the gym’s desk attendant chats her up.

“Hon?” hears Tally. JT’s in his basketball shorts and a faded gray Army T-shirt.

“There’s my beef cake,” says Tally. She puts her hand on her hip, wristlet dangling on its strip.

“I’m sorry, honey,” says JT when he’s done signing her in as a guest. He heads for the stairs, signs pointing to studios.

“No you’re not,” fires back Tally. “But you will be.” She pushes her chest out and hikes up her legs on the stairs to get ahead of him. She swats his hand when he reaches for the back of her.

“Damn,” says JT. A smile widens his face when she does the red-carpet pose and he gets a gander at her legs in them heels. “I want to lick you from your neck to your toes. Mmph! Damn, sis.”

“Waitin’ on you, papi,” says Tally.

“Let me beat on this boy first. It’s just better for all of us,” says JT. He takes her into a studio where the aforementioned boy is doing warm ups. One wall is mirrored. The floor is a light polished wood, largely cushioned by blue gym mats. The walls are lined with black mats. Tally feels a pang of envy because Malcolm is trim fit in a gray tee and 500-dollar luxe fitness pants. 

“Hi, Tally! You look fantastic!” exclaims Malcolm. His upbeat compliment is completely at odds with his red-rimmed eyes and the fatigue smudged under his lids. “I didn’t mean to delay your date night.”

“Thank you, baby. Heard you needed beat,” says Tally.

“Yeah, about that…” Malcolm shoves on headgear, his face bashfully tipped to the side. The translucent mouth guard stretches his awkward smile.

“ _Someone_ narrowly escaped fireball death in a chemical shed today,” says JT, pointedly glaring at Malcolm.

JT tries to win some points with Tally by pulling up a padded workout bench. He kisses her cheek when she sits down and crosses her leg. JT takes the opportunity to palm at the soft swell of her figure. 

Her envy subsides when she sees how little Malcolm is when he squares up for a round with her husband. JT could break him all too easily. Her fingers grip the edge of the bench as Malcolm dances into JT’s left. Malcolm is quick, but his nervous energy makes him too tense. His blows are too short, not delivering enough power though Malcolm turns his hips. JT is full ops patient, grunting through Malcolm’s hyper shenanigans. 

Even with boxing gloves worn by both men, Tally winces when JT pushes off his back foot and his right cross catches Malcolm under his right arm and jabs Malcolm’s stomach. Fatigue dips Malcolm’s glove and JT knocks his chin. JT’s glove thuds center mass and then Malcolm bends the knee, wheezing and drooling, baby blue eyes rolling, vein popping on his blotched red forehead. Malcolm’s glove rubs at his pointed nose, itchy from sweat.

Then Malcolm gets up and his punch flow improves despite JT working him over. Or perhaps because JT loosened him up. Malcolm’s agility then works better for him as he once more uses combinations of jabs, cross, and hook. He’s quicker to block as well. JT actually growls a few times, a little louder than when he absorbed lighter glances.

Tally’s lip drags between her teeth, excited from the noises they make from roughing each other up. She appreciates the contrast of Malcolm’s flat panes curved around the impact from JT’s glove. How his body gives under her husband’s strength. She can only guess how much JT holds himself back, checking himself no matter how feistily Malcolm pushes JT for a show of brute force. Tally doesn’t doubt that if JT wanted to, he’d be knocking blood, not breath, from Malcolm’s body.

When Malcolm nearly lands headlong onto the mat, JT’s shifts weight and his hooked arm steadies Malcolm instead of whacking him sideways. JT’s chin sits on top of Malcom’s safety headgear. He’s almost twice as broad as Malcolm, head and shoulders above the young man clinging to him. JT’s arm is almost as thick as Malcolm’s slender leg. Malcolm could never in a million years get his arms fully around her husband’s substantial constitution. They shouldn’t fit together, a wisp of a man and a chunky column.

“You boys need to hit the showers,” says Tally. She doesn’t notice that her cheeks are perched on the edge of the bench, the hem of her dress hiked up and stretched taut. JT gets an eyeful of wife and armfuls of boy.

“That can be arranged,” pipes up Malcolm after he spits out the mouth guard. He separates from JT, Velcro ripping as he strips off protective gear. Malcolm pulls a keycard from his back pocket and swipes a second door in the studio room. The door swings open to lockers and tiled floor. Malcolm steps through and disappears before the door swings toward his discarded sweat soaked shirt.

JT catches the door on his backside. His ass sits high despite his wide stature.

“Private showers,” says JT.

“How much is membership here?” blurts Tally.

JT laughs at her and gestures for her to come hither. Rather than trot at his beck and call, Tally splays her knees wider before arching off the workout bench. Each dainty step on her platform heels makes her hips sway as she sashays past JT. Tally nearly breaks stride when she gets a whiff of JT’s body. He’s pungent, but the base masculine element makes her want to sink her teeth in.

“Oh, that’s mean,” says JT, biting his knuckles.

“Get wet for me, honey,” says Tally. 

“Hey, that’s my line,” retorts JT. He’s on her heels like a wolf.

Her footfalls echo in the spa scented wash room. Peace lilies sit in oblong ceramic vessels. Wide green plant fronds are fanned along a textured wall with mosaic trim accents.

JT steps around her with a wink. Then he gets buck naked, joining Malcolm who is still fussing with the temperature of the water. His hands wave beneath the spray until the water is to his liking. She gets a side profile view of him. He’s pale, skin flushed where JT hit him, but hairier on his chest and stomach than she expects.

Tally parks her ass on the washroom counter where folded white towels sit in a pile. She smirks when Malcolm turns and raises his arms to shampoo his hair, treating her to a frontal view. She can tell that he waxes his pubes or opted for laser hair removal. The skin near his penis is almost two shades lighter compared to his stomach and legs.

JT trims his junk, keeping his curls short enough that Tally can go to town.

“You guys are going to have such a great time tonight!” says Malcolm over the shower. He’s looking at Tally when JT suds up a sponge and starts washing him. His skin shines from the water, foam piled like cream on his dark body hair. A floral scent wafts over to Tally as the steam picks up.

“I’m having fun now,” says Tally.

JT prompts Malcolm to lift his arms. At first, Malcolm raises them high and stiff as though JT were an arresting officer. As JT washes him down, however, Malcolm drops his guard and curves his arms, finally touching JT like his lover. His cock swells in a light bounce when JT’s fingers run along his underarms, dipping into his pits, and following his happy trail.

Then the suds melt from the shower spray and Tally gasps from the jagged red line on Malcolm’s chest, too close to his heart, where someone gouged a piece of him. Malcolm ignores the handrail in favor of letting JT grope his waist while he washes the bottom of his feet. JT winks at Tally with Malcolm bent down.

Malcolm returns the favor by washing JT’s back for him and rubbing at his shoulders. Then Malcolm steps out from the shower head and thanks Tally when she tosses him a towel.

“Why don’t you join us tonight?” suggests Tally. JT sets boundaries around their time together, but it means that she doesn’t see Malcolm outside of their pool hall or hear much about Malcolm besides JT’s workload.

“Ah,” Malcolm manages before he chuckles. “I shouldn’t. You and JT really need a night out.”

“I want to get to know you better,” says Tally. “Our table’s reserved. I’m sure it’s not a big deal for the gourmet restaurant to throw in another chair.”

“Especially since you don’t eat much,” says JT, grabbing a towel. “Just call them, Bright. You were the one who booked it.”

“I’m not as surprised as I should be. You’re a good boyfriend for JT,” says Tally. When she swoops down from the counter, her dress catches on the head of a screw, and Malcolm gets a panty shot.

Tally sighs when her pinky goes through the torn poly blend fabric. Luckily, her silk slip protects her modesty.

“Honey, how about you and Malcolm go get changed for dinner? I’m going to stop by H&M and meet you guys at the restaurant.” She’s upset and wants to shop alone without men underfoot.

“I have my suit with me. I was planning to change at work and come straight home to sweep you off your feet,” says JT.

“How about if JT drives me to the loft? I’m like minutes away. I’ll be dressed in a jiffy. Then we can take you shopping, Tally, at a proper boutique,” says Malcolm. “I feel so bad.”

“Sounds like a plan,” says JT. He suits up in a light gray outfit with a lilac dress shirt that Tally bought for him. JT’s shoulders look so yummy that Tally smiles to herself when Malcolm finds some lint to brush off.

Then ten minutes later, Tally sips mint infused cucumber water on a silk brocade lounge while they wait for the shop clerk to bring a wheeled rack of dresses suitable for Tally’s measurements. Malcolm wears a navy blue suit and a gray tie. His only concession to date night is a cerulean blue pocket square adorning his breast pocket. He seems content to sit on the sidelines, with her in the center, and JT focused on giving her feedback on her options.

At first, Tally is all set to replace her little black dress R.I.P. However, just for fun, Tally throws on an orange-red knee length dress that’s missing a significant portion of fabric in the front. Tally leaves her bra and silk slip hanging behind the velvet curtain of her fitting room. Half-cups are sewn into the dress. 

When she sweeps her wavy curls onto one shoulder and sees how sexy her breasts look in the angled mirrors, Tally breaks her personal rule about never showing underboob. She accepts the inevitably steep cost, which will mean a payment plan of several months. The shop clerk advises thin 14k gold bracelets and one thick bangle crafted with dark red enamel which Tally agrees does finish the look. Just to extend her pecuniary sentence.

Which is why Tally is terrifically confused when she inspects the dress and realizes that the price tag is absent. The shop clerk wishes her a lovely evening. No one walks her to a cash till. JT’s smile spreads like soft cheese when he sees her. He stands up and offers her the sleeve of his suit jacket. Malcolm breezes past them, phone out to reserve another ride share.

“You look incredible, but seating is in fifteen. We should leave now,” says Malcolm.

Malcolm hops into the car first. Tally follows in a daze. JT settles in after her. He’s learned not to sit in the middle and block the driver’s rearview window.

“Why didn’t we take your car, honey?” asks Tally.

“We’ll save time leaving it in the garage,” answers JT. His brown irises sink into the corner of his eye, honing in on wife boob.

“They do valet parking, but the service is variable,” says Malcolm.

“I forgot my under things in the fitting room,” says Tally.

“The boutique will use courier service to drop them off. JT gave the associate your address.”

“It’s taken care of,” says JT. “Relax, honey. Our night hasn’t even started.”

“What about the dress?!” demands Tally.

“Oh, I’m sorry. The shop has already binned it. I’d assumed that since your dress was damaged…” trails off Malcolm.

“No, I mean my new dress,” clarifies Tally. “They didn’t ring me up.” She waggles her arm until the 14k gold bracelets jingle jangle.

“Your dress was ruined on my account. I was happy to handle it,” says Malcolm.

“Hon, I’ve been to his family’s house. They can afford to pay business managers who can’t handle their business,” quips JT.

“If it helps, I technically didn’t buy the dress with my personal income. My family subscribes to the boutique for incidentals. Consider it pre-paid,” says Malcolm.

“Hon. Hon… Honey?” JT’s been trying to get her attention.

“Sorry, I don’t know where my mind went,” murmurs Tally. She’s vaguely aware that their driver stopped the car.

“Am I being too intrusive, Tally? It’s not my intention to flex. JT thought you would enjoy a slightly upscale evening experience,” says Malcolm over caviar and toast points. 

“Okay, no. I don’t care that you’re loaded, Malcolm. I’m just… surprised by how much JT is allowing you to do for us,” says Tally. “He’s not the kind of man that you buy.”

“Tally.” When she turns her face, JT says, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, honey.” Tally’s hand presses her lips while she reaches for tact. “You have to understand my skepticism, Malcolm. It took me and JT years for us to trust each other. I had to figure out what he was comfortable accepting from me. If I did too much, he would pull away.”

“JT is very lucky to have a generous spouse,” says Malcolm. “If JT is more receptive to affection compared to the past, it’s because of your steadfast influence.”

“It’s true, hon. You wore me down.”

“You’re recalling a specific incident that damaged your relationship with JT, almost to the point of irreconciliation,” says Malcolm, watching her.

“It was when he asked me to marry him,” says Tally. She stops blinking, not wanting to dissolve the adhesive on her lashes with her sudden tears.

“You refused him. Vehemently,” says Malcolm.

“Did JT tell you why I threw the ring at his head? Or am I giving you cues and I just don’t know it?” asks Tally.

“The latter,” answers Malcolm. “I did not know about the ring toss. I’m not psychic.”

“She looked at her credit report and saw an inquiry made. By me,” says JT.

“JT, you didn’t. Not with your credentials and zero criminal justification?” asks Malcolm.

“He sure did,” says Tally.

“That’s something I would do,” says Malcolm.

“I guess we do have that in common,” says JT, sounding unhappy about it. “Tally, honey, all this is for you. You’re the best wife and I’m so grateful that we still have each other. I asked Bright to hook us up this one time. He and I don’t have special dates.”

“I wouldn’t mind it if you come over and have dinner with us, Malcolm. Or if you bring some of the casework to where JT and I live. If it means that JT’s at home a little more,” says Tally.

“I’ll consider it,” says Malcolm. “I am far more paranoid and suspicious than JT. It’s an illness.”

“Best wife ever,” repeats JT. He strokes her hand in-between the china, crystal goblets, and gold utensils.

“What I can’t believe is that out of the two of us, JT, you’re the one who found a sugar daddy,” says Tally, tongue in cheek, caviar on the mother of pearl spoon.

“Bright is not my daddy,” grumbles JT.

“I prefer the term sugar bottom,” objects Malcolm.

Tally gets treated to a full course dinner and Malcolm gets all the yummy details of JT groveling to win her back. Exquisitely prepared abalone fills her belly, soaking up a summer-y vintage. They agree to walk off the heavy meal, stopping when Tally wants to look around a jewelry store.

“See something you like?” asks JT. He wraps his arm around her waist, admiring her figure in a trendy little number.

She gestures at a white-gold diamond choker with square-cut diamonds. “Would you mind buying this?”

“Uh, hon…?” asks JT. He knows it’s not her usual taste in jewelry.

“I’ve got it,” says Malcolm. He really puts down 5000 USD in crisp bills before Tally can take back her words. Malcolm meets her light-hearted challenge with a smile.

JT speaks up. “Bright, you already booked a room for us.”

“Did you? Thanks, Malcolm,” says Tally, feeling like she’s repeated herself at least a dozen times.

“Yep! Let’s go,” chirps Malcolm, presenting her with a little blue gift bag.

Tally and JT trail after Malcolm on Fifth Avenue. The Tarmels check in at the Langham Hotel. The hotel concierge offers to escort them to the Alfred Pennyworth Suite, but Malcolm assures the Langham employee that he’s familiar with the layout. 

Their hotel suite features an elegant living room, a dining table decorated with white lilies, two bathrooms with whirlpool bathtubs, and most critically, a billiards table.

“What kind of music are you in the mood for?” asks Malcolm. Out of familiarity with the accommodations, he finds the Apple iPhone docking station with speakers, for guest use. While Tally and JT choose between jazz or old R&B, Malcolm grabs chilled beer bottles from the mini-fridge.

Tally racks up the balls, 8 ball in center, alternating solids and stripes. She rubs red chalk on the tip of her cue stick. JT watches intently as Tally leans over to break, breasts swaying inside her dress. Malcolm chatters while JT and Tally play one vs. one. He gradually peels off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves. His tie and waistcoat stay on. Tally waits for JT to line up his shot before she slinks closer to Malcolm and helps him loosen up his tie. Tally steals Malcom’s tie and loops it over her own neck, letting it fall on the bare skin of her chest.

Malcolm looks over in surprise when JT’s cue stick thumps the floor; JT is looking frustrated.

“How did you miss?” asks Malcolm. He’s seen JT pocket balls despite improbable odds.

Tally giggles when her husband deadpans. “Tally, you know what you did.”

“I know what’ll put a big smile on your face, papi,” says Tally. She rips open the gift bag from the jewelry store and tosses the little blue box at JT. JT uncrosses his arms to catch it.

“Whaddya want me to do with this?” retorts JT.

“Put it on your boyfriend,” says Tally. She turns her upper body side to side, cue stick in hand like a royal scepter.

“Huh,” says JT. He pulls off the white ribbon and opens the jewelry box. The diamond choker glimmers like a thread easily swallowed up in the prodigious size of his brown hand.

“Do you want it, Bright?” says JT, dangling the choker.

“Go ahead,” goads Malcolm, licking his wet, pink lips. His bottom lip catches between his teeth.

Malcolm’s lashes flutter just from JT’s hands around his neck. His face looks extra fragile, more vulnerable, so wanting. JT secures the clasp over Malcolm’s throat before spinning the choker. His thumbs rub over Malcolm’s delicate skin and the hard diamonds.

“Lookin’ good, Bright. You look damned sexy,” appraises JT. As Tally predicted, a huge smile lifts his cheeks.

“You win, Tally. I forfeit the game,” says JT. He cups Malcolm’s chin and steals a kiss. Within moments, JT shrugs off his suit jacket and lobs it on top of the pool table, covering his cue stick. Malcolm clutches JT’s body, hands splayed on his sides.

JT reaches around and firmly gropes Malcolm’s ass. He lifts up Malcolm and backs him into the short cabinet end of the pool table. Malcolm cries out JT’s name before JT rips open his waistcoat and pulls his button-down apart. The diamond choker sparkles beneath his trembling Adam’s apple, peeking out of the collars of his shirt. Malcolm’s legs bend, hips canting around JT’s waist. JT kisses him so fiercely that Malcolm’s hands scrabble for purchase on the green pool table. Billiard balls clack together. Tally’s hands tighten around her pool cue.

JT bends over and forces Malcolm on his back, on the green. His brown hair fans out wildly, head thumping the table. Malcolm’s knees are bent up and raised. The sole of Malcolm’s wingtips slide around the raised and polished rails. Malcolm arches on the pool table, but JT maintains his grip on Malcolm’s wrists.

“JT, what about your wife?” asks Malcolm, the breath kissed out of him. Face and neck flushed. Shirt and waistcoat spread open. Chest and abs bruised where JT boxed him.

“She nastier than me,” says JT. “What do you want me to do about this boy, honey?”

“We don’t want to leave cum stains,” says Tally. She sees Malcolm’s erection tenting his trousers. His belt remains buckled. He’s mostly dressed despite his squirming. “Roll over, Malcolm.”

“You better do it, Bright. Lie down with your face and hands flat,” orders JT, releasing Malcolm.

Malcolm scoots back, dragging the seat of his trousers along the felt, knocking balls into pockets. His waistcoat and shirt hang loose before he gets on all fours and carefully settles belly down.

A pained cry escapes in a soft huff the first time JT spanks him. JT spanks the other cheek. When Malcolm wriggles too much, JT strips the clothes from Malcolm’s upper body. Tally binds the necktie around Malcolm’s wrists.

JT tests the pool table’s stability, admiring the thick supportive legs and the solid wood craftsmanship.

“I think we can go harder on him without breaking the table,” says JT.

“We should. Can’t do this at Amsterdam,” agrees Tally. She smooches JT’s lips.

JT briefly turns Malcolm’s hips, shifts Malcolm onto his side. “Do you want more, Bright?”

“Yes, please,” says Malcolm. He moves into JT's touch. “Can you take off my belt? The buckle’s digging in.”

JT takes care of him, fondly pats his hair, before removing Malcolm’s belt. “You do know that I’m going to crack the belt on your ass, right?”

Malcolm moves his head, resting his cheek on the green felt. His loosened trousers bunch down, revealing his plaid boxer-briefs. “I was hoping you would, JT.”

JT pulls off his dress shirt and tugs the bottom of his undershirt to cool off. He briefly rolls his shoulders before he experimentally cracks the leather belt, gripping the buckled end. Tally steals a couch cushion and happily settles on her knees before unzipping the crotch and taking out JT’s long and fat cock. The dress is bunched over her navel. Her fingers dip into her soaked panties, wet from watching JT man handle someone. Tally becomes lost in her husband’s cock ramming her throat, JT’s pleased shudders and moans, followed by the crack of leather, and Malcolm screaming for it. One big hand slowly and gently squeezing her wavy curls. While his dominant fist belting some twink ass.

“Do you want to milk him, honey?” JT asks. He paws at her skin beneath the nonexistent neckline of her dress. “It would be so hot if he came all over your breasts. It’ll make me nut in his ass.”

Tally pants heavily when he stops fucking her throat and lets her talk, her drool a thin line from her swollen lips to her wrinkled fingers.

“Yes. I’ll ride your boyfriend,” says Tally. Her pussy throbs, and she pinches her clit until she’s good and wet.

JT, in the meantime, explains some things to Malcolm.

“You are going to fuck my wife. Don’t you dare fill her. You say when you’re about to come and you shoot onto her breasts, you understand, Bright?”

When Malcolm doesn’t answer quickly enough, JT canes his bright red ass and the back of his thighs with the narrow end of the cue stick. 

“What are you going to do? You’re bad at directions. Need to know you heard,” says JT. He raises the cue stick and whacks it onto Malcolm’s abused body.

“Oh God, JT! Yes! I won’t come in your wife’s hole. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good,” swears Malcolm. Malcolm groans as the stick flexes after each strike, thin red welts striping his cheeks. Wherever the belt buckle bit his skin will show bruises later.

Tally gets her turn to perch on the top rail of the pool table. Her legs are wide open; snakeskin platform shoes are precariously balanced on the edge. Malcolm’s hands are still restrained by his necktie. Tally eagerly guides him into her cunt after JT gets him naked and on his feet. Malcolm fucks her like he’s out of his mind. Though he’s of average length and a decent girth in Tally’s hand, Malcolm’s hip snap at an urgent pace, intent on a hard fuck. Tally’s own juices dribble down the globes of her ass, sticky as she smears all over Malcolm’s skin. His teeth are bared, forehead wrinkled, dripping sweat, eyes heated as they both feel his cock spear in and out of her clenched body.

“Please, I’m going to come. So hard. Now. Coming. JT!” growls Malcolm. JT’s hand covers his throat and JT yanks his hair, pulling him away from Tally. JT’s hand tightens around Malcolm’s neck, whispering into Malcolm’s ear, jerking Malcolm’s cock until Malcolm groans and shoots ropes of cum on Tally’s chest.

Tally rubs his hot spend all over her skin. The dress is ruined, but her skin glows after her orgasm and shines from Malcolm’s release coating her breasts. JT’s splayed hand almost completely covers her soft chest. He plays with her breasts and thrusts his fingers in and out of her slick cunt until her legs kick out from another orgasm. Malcolm is left bent over the pool table, but he’s not alone for too long.

JT grabs at Tally’s wristlet and pulls out a foil packet of flavored lube. He tears it open and slicks his fingers. Malcolm shakily exhales JT’s name again while JT lubes his sweet pucker.

“You did very, very well. I’m going to give you exactly what you want, baby. Do you want me to break your ass over this table?” asks JT.

“Yes, JT. Fuck me. Fuck me til you break me,” begs Malcolm. He groans once more, unleashes a strangled howl when JT squeezes his ass, making him relive the spanking, whipping, and caning that was done to him. Then JT works in his fingers, making Malcolm sore in a deeper way. Malcolm pants from his body weight pressing on the minor boxing injuries, his cock twitching as JT gives him the sexual pain which he craves.

Tally grabs the cue stick and sinks it into her engorged opening, hand firmly wrapped around the thicker end. She twists it in, her ears filled with Malcolm’s begging and JT’s physique clapping against Malcolm’s ass cheeks, lube squelching with each thrust of JT’s cock. JT lowers himself onto his forearms, bracing some of his weight, but still crushing Malcolm underneath him. JT fucks Malcolm harder from the excitement of Tally diddling herself with the blunt end of the cue stick. JT grabs the cue stick when Tally’s movements slow.

“Honey!” protests Tally.

His fist knocks against her swollen and used cunt lips, whipping her blood into sharp climax when he impales her, wedding band glinting like her wet folds. At the same moment, JT stiffens and gathers Malcolm to himself like a toy doll. The diamond choker gleams between the cage of JT’s fingers. Tally can almost feel it, too, when JT can’t keep it in anymore, and releases everything that’s inside him. She feels what Malcolm does, with JT locked in deep, entranced by the sameness in Malcolm’s face.

Tally is JT’s happy wife. She smiles at the husband who gives her what she asked for, a night out that did, in fact, ruin her.

**Author's Note:**

> I went looking for Malcolm Bright fucked over pool table and ended up writing it myself. Outrageous.
> 
> ...............I did get a kick out of searching for pool and the search results reminded me of how much I adore Hannah's "A Little Bit Brighter" fic and Pond's fanart of Malcolm in a pool. There not enough water in that pool to kill my thirst lolsob.


End file.
